


Spark and Burn

by escritoireazul



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dominance, Extra Treat, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Submission, ToT: Monster Mash, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 09:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12504680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: The fire cast golden light across the long line of his back, warming his pale flesh. He was thin enough the knots of his spine pressed against his skin and the edges of his ribs were a shadow just beneath the surface. When she drew near, he quivered, and she watched the motion flutter down his body. She could stroke his head, sooth him like the animal he was. Instead, she placed one hand on the side of his throat and dug her nails in.





	Spark and Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tekuates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekuates/gifts).



The fire cast golden light across the long line of his back, warming his pale flesh. He was thin enough the knots of his spine pressed against his skin and the edges of his ribs were a shadow just beneath the surface. When she drew near, he quivered, and she watched the motion flutter down his body.

She could stroke his head, sooth him like the animal he was.

Instead, she placed one hand on the side of his throat and dug her nails in. They were too blunt to easily draw blood, but her grip was tight, her strength great, and he could take it. He didn’t flinch as she tore open his skin; he pressed into her, silent and still but for the weight of his body pushed into the pain.

When she drew her hand away, her nails were stained with blood.

She circled him, each step slow and precise, until she stood in front of him. He didn’t look up at her. Wouldn’t. _Couldn’t_. Not until she told him to. His head was angled too low for her to see his expression, and at this angle, the light cast long shadows across his face.

The longer she stood before him, the faster he breathed. If he’d been human, she would have worried about him hyperventilating, but he could take this, too.

Finally, she held her hand in front of his face. He took it, face still turned down, and brought her fingers to his mouth. Licked his own drying blood from her nails. He made a small, tight noise, so quiet she would have missed it if she hadn’t listened so hard.

“Did you have something to say?” she asked. His shoulders bowed, and he let go of her hand. Her fingers were damp at the tips. She touched them to his cheek; his skin was cool and soft, the cheekbone hard beneath it when she traced her fingers along it. She put her fingers beneath his chin and pressed up until he looked at her at last, his eyes washed gray in the light. “Tell me.”

“Please, Buffy.” The words tore ragged from his throat. It was one of those nights, then. She let a slow smile curl her lips. Already begging, and she had barely touched him.

She slid her fingers along his jaw as she drew her hand away, then backed up until she could perch on the edge of the stone slab inside the crypt. (It had been, and technically still was, a coffin, but decades unopened left it a stone table for her purposes. She did not let herself think about what had rotted away to dust inside.) It was a little too tall for him; he had to stretch uncomfortably to reach her. That was exactly why she’d chosen it.

“Come here and earn it,” she told him, and spread her thighs, pulling her skirt up as she did. She was naked beneath it, no underwear to get in her way, even though she’d patrolled earlier. It made her feel dangerous, and dirty, to fight like that; not vulnerable, exactly, but it left her feeling alive in ways she struggled to feel otherwise.

Sweat was still drying on her skin, and she smelled like graveyard and vampire dust. Spike didn’t seem to mind; he came to her on his knees, jeans worn from how many times he’d crawled to her across the rough ground, and braced his hands on either side of her legs.

He wasn’t allowed to touch her yet.

His eyes were wide and dark as he watched her, and when he breathed in, slow and steady, heat rushed straight through her. He was scenting her, she knew, and not just the smells from her patrol. She was already wet, and she could feel herself get wetter still just from his focus.

She leaned back, canted her hips toward him.

“Now, Spike,” she said, and that was all it took. He kept his hands braced against the cool stone and buried his face between her legs. His tongue found her clit first thing as his mouth settled over her, and she shouted, squeezed hard at the stone edge.

She was freshly shaved and the slight scrape of his facial hair felt like it lit each nerve on fire. She could make him drag it out -- he didn’t have to breathe, and her stamina was unmatched -- but though she hated to show her weakness, she felt as needy as he’d sounded.

He was good. Even without his hands, he knew exactly what to do to take her apart. His tongue worked from her clit down to her cunt in long, slow strokes, working her up; he kept the pace steady even as she thrashed against his mouth, crying out wordless sounds.

The pleasure rose and rose and rose, and then he switched it up, thrusting his tongue inside, his nose just brushing her clit. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough to push her over the edge, wasn’t even enough to keep her balanced on the precipice; her orgasm faded as her pleasure dropped. She felt stone crack beneath her fingers, but didn’t move away.

Instead, as he continued to work his tongue into her, her pleasure started to build again. Her nipples were hard, her breath fast, and she was wet enough it spread to her thighs and smeared across his face. He brought her closer and closer and closer --

\-- and switched back to the long, slow strokes. Again, the orgasm fell away. Again, she cracked small pieces of stone from the edge of the slab. Again, the tension drained from her body before starting to build once more.

Each time she got close to orgasm, he backed away. Each time the pleasure built again, it took her higher and higher, until her thoughts disappeared and all she could focus on was how her body sparked and burned.

“Now, Spike,” she ordered at last, unwilling to push herself through the exquisite, painful pleasure even one more time.

Immediately, he set teeth and tongue to her clit and shoved four fingers inside her cunt. It ached as he stretched her, but felt so good, and she barely had time to draw a breath before the sharp scrape of his fangs followed by the steady lick of her tongue sent her barreling over the edge into orgasm.

She screamed as she came, riding his face, hips slamming up and up and up, hands tearing into the stone. Her body drew taut as a bowstring; just when she thought she would snap, it washed over her, leaving her limp and shaking on the cool stone.

Spike licked her through it. Only when she was done, body completely relaxed, did he lift his head from between her thighs. His mouth was raw and red, his face wet. The first time, she’d been embarrassed to see what she’d done to him. Now she basked in it.

“Please,” he said again.

She spread her legs again, touched one hand to her inner thigh. “Here,” she murmured.

That was all he needed. He ducked his head again, and this time, sank his fangs into her femoral artery. It hurt, more than the thrust of fingers inside her. It burned, more than her orgasm. It washed through her, more pain than pleasure, and tore another shout from her throat.

She didn’t let him drink for long. He whined when she tapped the side of his head, but pulled away. Sat back on his haunches. There was blood on his lips now, his face wet with more of her. She sat up, touched his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Pressed her fingers so he would lick them clean. Drew him forward with one finger at the edge of his chin, until he could rest his head on her bare thigh.

Buffy stroked his head, touch light. Spike closed his eyes.


End file.
